God can't save you from all of your sins
by iAnneart
Summary: It all starts with a spell...and it always ends with someone fucking up.
1. In which angel wings are the new rulers

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"Be prepared to kiss my beautiful arse because I have the solution to save the entire world, boys." Crowley announces with glee as he claps his hands, not caring that he literally appeared in the Winchesters' pitch-black motel room.

Uninvited.

At 3:49 AM.

It doesn't take long for the two brothers to startle awake.

"What the fu-" Sam is currently fighting off his bed sheets as they got extremely tangled with his long limbs after flaying spastically in surprise. Dean immediately whips out his favorite pistol, which he always keeps hidden underneath his pillow for emergencies, eyes wide in fear like he was under attack. As soon as he makes out who appeared in the room, he locks the security on the pearly-white gun and places it on the nightstand, albeit still looking quite annoyed.

"Goddamn it. You almost gave me a heart attack, you son of a lying witchy bitch." He mutters.

Crowley smiles in return.

"Nice to see you too, darlings. Anyway, after an eternity of scouring through every single little inch of this scummy planet, I've finally found it."

The two boys still rub their eyes in attempt to get rid of the last remnants of sleepiness. "Uh, would you care to elaborate?" Dean says sharply, more irritated it was taking longer than usual to get their head in the game and chase the grogginess away.

"Yeah, I mean...we have no idea what you're talking about." Sam yawns.

"What a surprise." Crowley says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "The dull and plodding moose has no idea what's going on."

Sam purses his lips, not enjoying that quip.

"Out with it, Crowley. What do you want?" Dean growls out.

"Lucifer."

Silence.

"..."

"..."

Sam coughs awkwardly. "Well I am not sure how you expect us to help you with that-" Crowley's temple pulsed with an angry vein.

"Not THAT, you dolt. Don't be disgusting. I'll leave the Anna Rice romance/Stockholm syndrome mess for you." The pursing of lips now turns into the powerful Sam Winchester bitch-face.

"I found a way to cast Lucifer from Castiel's body." Crowley continues. Now this definitely got Dean's attention and he immediately straightened up, eyes widening more than necessary.

"Tell us." He demands. The demon rolls his eyes, frankly irritated at how much importance Dean gives to that pesky angel. And no, he wasn't jealous, evil bastards. Screw you for thinking it.

"It's a headache of a spell but mommy dearest has volunteered to do the grunt work. She holds grudges rather well, particularly against the Prince of Darkness." The demon grins.

Dean shakes his head in slight disbelief. "Right. And you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

"Good God, Dean don't start acting like your braindead brother." He shakes his head as if disappointed.

"HEY."

"Lucifer is the only thing that can usurp me from my throne. I don't want him in Castiel because I want him BACK IN THE CAGE where he belongs." Dean raises his eyebrows.

"You don't want to kill him?" Crowley remains silent for a while before chuckling quietly. "Ah, you still never fail to tickle me. You cannot kill the Devil, child. Only God and Amara have the juice for that."

"Hey, I killed Death who is way older than Lucifer. And if Amara can kill him, then why not just let her? She's probably torturing him as we speak."

"I am sorry, do you WANT the Darkness to destroy your boyfriend?"

"NO, I mean-" He sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I still don't see what's in it for you."

"Simple. A Lucifer in his cage, defeated and miserable is MUCH more satisfying than a dead Lucifer. It means I get to rub it in his smug face every single chance I get." Crowley says vindictively.

"Wow. Mature."

"SHUT IT, MOOSE. And I find it downright laughable, Dean, that you actually believe you killed Death. I don't know if you've ever stop to wonder but Death is DEATH. As in nobody can _ever_ kill Death."

"I drove his scythe right into his ribs and he disintegrated into ash. He looked pretty dead to me." Dean crosses his arms, staring at the short man with a pointed look.

Crowley seems like he's about to further argue his point, but sighs frustrated. "This is not even the important point right now. What matters is that your angel with the dirty trench coat will be free from Lucifer's chokehold and I will have the opportunity to dish out justice."

He snaps his fingers once and they are immediately transported to the Bunker basement. Rowena has already set up a grotesque altar in the center of the Devil's Trap, and she's currently lighting the candles for the spell to take place. "Oh…kay, so this is happening _right now_. Cool. I see nothing wrong than can happen from this rushed-Holy crap, that is a LOT of blood."

"Fresh from 666 newborn infants." She says lightly as if talking about the weather. Both Winchesters attempt to not puke in horror.

"Was this portion the one which gave you a headache, you sadistic bastard?!" He looks at Crowley, who is waiting right outside the Devil's trap.

"Mother, could you hurry it up? I am getting a wee bit antsy for a talk with the Devil." He says, completely ignoring Dean. Rowena laughs sardonically. "Talk? Oh, I'll be doin a lot moar then that, I assure yew-"

"Wait. You said Lucifer will be back in the cage. Not to burst your vendetta bubble or anything but don't we kind of need him to defeat the Darkness?" Sam interjects, his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"Aahh...Sam. Not ready for the tearful goodbye, are you?"

"I WILL STAB YOU IN THE NECK WITH RUBY'S KNIFE IF YOU KEEP INSINUATING-!"

"Aha, so Lucifer _did_ rub off some of his delightful personality on you. Can't say I'm quite surprised, I bet that wasn't the only thing he rubbed off-"

The older Winchester grabbed his snarling brother firmly by the shoulder before he could take another step

"Whoa, let's all calm down just a bit. Sam's right. Lucifer is the only one we know of who is powerful enough to have a fighting chance against Amara." He glared at Crowley, giving him a look that clearly said _you do not need to antagonize him right at this moment_.

"We still need him around, just in another vessel." Dean says gruffly.

"In WHAT vessel? You want to kidnap a random human and force him or her to say yes? Nick is long gone, his body is probably eaten by maggots already. I'm pretty sure you're not game in offering your little bro for Lucifer to wear to prom-"

"OUT OF THE QUESTION." Dean bellows.

"And you seem to conveniently forget he tried to blast Amara with the hand of God himself and she came out unscratched. He's useless!"

"I resent that, Crowley." Castiel's voice, heightened by amusement and a certain intonation only Lucifer carried, shocked everyone.

Even Crowley wasn't expecting this turn of events. Now, having the fallen archangel in front of him made him realize for the billionth time he actually _really_ is petrified of Lucifer.

"... _Bollocks_." He whispers. "You're supposed to be the Darkness' bitch."

"Actually, now that we're talking about my aunt...she has a message for you."

Sam snorts softly, as if attempting not to laugh. "So then, you DID become her bitch." He jeers. Not far to his left, Rowena gives him a subtle inclination of her head, as if praising him for a job well done.

Lucifer turns around in an instant, ice-cold blue eyes terrifying calm. Sam gulps, noticing how a small but insidious grin played on the angel's lips. He takes slow deliberate steps towards his true vessel.

"Sam, sam. Saaaaam. What am I _ever_ gonna do with you?" His voice is lighthearted and casual, eye crinkling in fondness as if speaking to a 6 year old child. Sam really tries to hold it in, tries to be unfazed and fearless, but he can feel the chilling terror building up in his veins, his lungs, and his heart. His breathing becomes labored.

"Let's just glaze over the fact you're implying anyone can keep me under their thumb for a moment, for your sake. Kay? What I find positively hilarious is you deem it appropriate to mock me for being controlled by a powerful force, when you...became my bitch too." He smiled sweetly.

"I refused you." Sam snarled. "Which is why you resorted to using Cas in the first place."

"Yeah, yeah Castiel's feelings of worthlessness were really starting to depress me for a while. I figured I'd help him out with that. But you said yes to me first. You said yes and when we fell together, we were closer than ever. Nick whats-his-name and Cas, my dear lost brother, they are nothing compared to our bond." The smile turned into a toothy grin, and Sam's fucking stupid heart beats faster.

"First that Nick guy, then my freaking brother. And now Cas. Boy, the Devil sure gets around."

Dean mutters, more for himself but everyone heard him anyway.

Sam shudders violently, abhorring his brother's analogy of Satan taking over his body to… _that_. Lucifer waves a hand in dismissal and suddenly Dean feels like his tongue is being precariously held by a pair of razor-sharp surgeon scalpels. "Make another sound and you'll bleed out from your tongue." He smiles again, slightly biting his lip as he turns toward to Sam.

"The nerve of your big bro. Don't worry, I get it. I have an even more infuriating one than yours. But hey...Sammy. Do not ever forget. You're my true vessel. We are eternal. We are it. I might have been a little mad at you before, I admit I can say some things I don't mean at times… I mean you did betray me and send me to the cage again, but it's water under the bridge. I can get over it if you can. "

Meanwhile Sam is attempting his best not to go completely ballistic on Lucifer for attempting to make it sound like they were best buds who were going to a rough patch. Or _worse_ —A scoff is heard in the background. "Petty flings, moose. Don't you fret, you're the main squeeze." Crowley couldn't help but call out sarcastically from outside the devil's trap. Lucifer to his great relief, finds his comment insignificant enough to ignore him. "Hey bunk buddy. Do you remember our time in the Cage?"

Sam swallows harshly, a knot stuck in his throat so big it felt like he has to down 100 large pills at once. Of course not. He doesn't remember. He doesn't want to remember. And suddenly, the memory of Lucifer assaults him. Or rather, the hallucination of Lucifer.

 _You're my little bitch in every sense of the way._

No.

H-he can't keep remembering that. He got over it.

It's gone. Never happened.

 _I'm fine._

 _I'm always fine-_

It shouldn't be there, but i-it's—

It's there.

OhGOD IT'S THERE.

"Stop it-" He gasps, the memories of the Cage bombarding his mind once again, triggered in an instant. So stupidly easy. If Lucifer wills it, he can make the memories vivid, fucking Technicolor, and 3-D. As if it just happened yesterday.

"You need a hug there, bunk buddy?"

Dean looks anguished at seeing his brother's rapidly deteriorating well-being, only able to observe as Sam fell to his knees.

 _'Oh, Sam. Even if we're meant for each other...doesn't mean you have the right to betray me so appallingly. Even if you're my true everything…I still want to see you fucking bleed.'_

Anger. This is by far, the most common emotion Lucifer displayed towards Sam in his time in the cage.

 _'Scream louder for me, Sam. You know it's my favorite part. Beg for me to stop.'_

Delight, however, was a close second. Revulsion and crippling shame roiled in his stomach enough for him to close his eyes tightly, focusing his energy on not vomiting.

 _'Michael always loved me, even when wanting to kill me. Now, that you made us fall, he loathes me. My own brother actually and truly hates me...How could you?'_

Sorrow.

And tears, if Sam recalled correctly. Out of all the emotions he saw in the Devil, this one had to be the least seen, but the one he felt the most sympathetic to. He never would admit it, but he connected to the fallen archangel's devastation as he knows it'd be the end of his entire existence if Dean ever hated him too.

Relating to Lucifer, however, was as toxic and poisonous to his soul as the torture he'd endured.

 _'Does my punishment fit the crime? I hardly think so. But I assure you will be punished as I have been punished. For eternity._ '

Vengeance.

Lucifer is the King of "An eye for an eye" and an even extended more extreme version of "an eye for the entire body and soul's damnation". He'd never forget. So he'd never stop punishing him.

"...Or do you need something more than a hug?" Lucifer taunted, hands lightly pressing themselves down on the kneeling man's shoulders, a mockery of what is supposed to be a comforting gesture. Disgusting. Repulsion. It's all Sam feels.

Dean no longer cares if the Devil cuts off his tongue, he runs over to his brother, crying out "Sammy!" because he'll be damned if he lets Sam suffer within his vicinity and not try to do something about it. A heavy-set hand grips Lucifer's shoulder, and Castiel's head tilts abruptly.

"Let go of my brother right now, you son of a bitch." Dean says venomously.

"OLAPIRETA ADAGITA BOLAPE ORESA-"

Rowena's powerful voice rang out tenebrously in Enochian. Lucifer slowly turns around, a murderous smile on his face. Sam sighs in relief, not sure how much more stalling he could do. Rowena had finished the ritual set up. The spell is beginning.

"A NOCO DE ELO! TELOAH ADAGITA ORESA! TELOAH!"

"Just a subtle trick to deceive me, huh Sammy?" It seemed like Rowena and Sam had silently communicated to each other that they needed to distract the Devil, or at least long enough for her to finish the legwork. And by the look of surprise from Dean, it doesn't seem like Sammy consulted his brother.

He chuckled, and without sparing even a second, he has a lifeless blank canvas for a face. Immediately, blue eyes start to narrow and squint, and the facial expression turns into bewilderment. He looks down at his hands clawing Sam's shoulders, and he looks like he's about to say something but-

"TELOAH! TEALOAH ORESA!"

Sam realizes what they've done.

"NO ROWENA! CASTIEL RESURFACED!"

But it was too late.

A bright light enveloped the room.

And the Winchesters along with Castiel were gone.

.

.

 **"CRASH!"**

They felt the shattered glass before they could decipher what was cutting into their skin. A second later, it was deduced they had crashed through a large window pane with no reason or rhyme to it. It didn't make any sense, since there was no large windows in the bunker and why the HELL is there dance music blaring so frigging loud?

Both Sam and Dean groan in agony, feeling blood gush from various wounds, not yet ready to open their eyes and face what the fuck was going on. A loud female voice was yelling, saying something along the lines of "LUCIFER! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE _NOW_!"

Wait. **Lucifer**?

She _knew_?

This was more than enough for the Winchester boys to pop their eyes open and jump up from the floor reaching for their guns, even though deep cuts littered their entire skin. Seriously, the blood was getting a bit much. They both turned to the woman, who was…whoa.

She had smooth velvety dark skin that seem to shimmer in the club lights, luscious long brown hair that framed her delicate face perfectly, smooth doll-formed berry stained lips and large sultry eyes. Even her eyebrow scar, that small patch that didn't grow any hair, made her radiate sex.

Not to mention the torture-sex dungeon outfit she was wearing. How in the heck did she manage to put on so many straps and leather?

It only took them this long to notice she had two extremely sharp-looking curved daggers in her hands, already aiming at their heads.

"Holy shit-"

It is the only thing Dean could think of saying before the woman throws the knives with inhumane speed straight to their necks. They didn't stand a chance. They should be dead right now. But they are not. No, the knives are suspended by thin air and the dark-haired woman looks puzzled, staring right through the Winchesters, as if seeing someone behind them.

"LUCIFER!" She yells again with a tinge of irritation, still staring straight ahead, but rising her head up as if the person she is looking for is in the second floor of the place (which looks to be a very luxurious club).

"What is it with all of the yelling, woman? I am right here."

And Sam freezes.

It is not Castiel's voice.

No, he knows that voice because he dealt with it for more than fifteen thousand years in the godforsaken cage-!

Nick's smiling face is the first thing that catches his eye when he swivels around to see who the woman is staring at. And immediately, he feels like he might pass out.

Lucifer is here, Lucifer is back wearing Nick's body. It doesn't make any bit of sense, but so far, nothing is. And for some reason, Sam smiles. Obviously because Cas is safe now. Not because of the familiar face of the archangel. Of course not. Castiel is still slumped on the floor, still unconscious. After Dean gets over the fact that Lucifer is now hosting his body, he runs to Cas to see if he was okay.

"I'd like to know who you are, and how you know who I am." He requests very amicably.

"Oh great, another imposter." The woman sneers at Lucifer, and Sam is immediately terrified for her.

"Pardon?" The blonde man actually looks genuinely confused.

"You're powerful, I'll give you that. I've never seen someone stop my hell-daggers in mid-throw _except_ Lucifer." She looks at him up and down, a scrutinizing glint in her dark eyes. For the first time in ever, Sam can palpate the extreme bewilderment in his expression, even though he has his best poker face. But Sam knows, he's as lost as the rest of them are. Did she actually claim to have known the Devil? And even more ridiculous… did she say it _wasn't_ him?

"You mean…" He begins to say, tone losing his lightheartedness, stepping toward the woman. Her casual tone isn't something Lucifer is used to, especially when directed at him.

".. _Me?_ " His voice is deep and dark, not quite angry, but not at all pleased with the disrespect. Even though the woman just tried to decapitate them with curved daggers, Sam still has the urge to scream out to her "RUN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, JUST _RUN_!"

She tilts her head very subtly, noticing how this imposter was different from the other poor sap. For starters, the first guy was human. And Maze was 100% sure this man was not.

"You don't give off a demonic energy, though. But an angel wouldn't dare call themselves Lucifer. God, what it is _up_ with all of the impersonators lately?" She complains.

Lucifer suddenly realizes something.

"You're a demon." He says this as a statement, not a question. She nods in response, her face saying _no shit Sherlock_. "But your true face is actually beautiful. That is unheard of. Demons are supposed to be hideous. I should know, I made them myself." The simmering anger in his face was gone, replaced with curious confusion once again and a bit of wonder.

In a split second, his faces contorts to a menacing scowl. "But this is the second time you refer to me as an impersonator. Care to explain why?" He demands, his steps slowly down deliberately, which exacerbates the clicking his shoes make with the black smooth floor. He passes the Winchesters, and he hears the subtle inhale of quivering breath. He smiles. _Sam._

The woman doesn't even flinch in fear. In fact, she rolls her eyes as if she was being confronted by a toddler with a toy gun and was forced to play along.

"Maybe it's because what you _are_?" She sneers, looking up and down at him with complete aversion.

"You're an insult to the concept of intelligence." Lucifer spits out hatefully, taking one last step, now towering over the petite female. He looks down at her in contempt, dark blue eyes stormy and full of thunder. "Someone has been stealing my identity, and you, a _demon_ , did not notice?"

The woman no longer seems bored. In fact, she looks taken back, surprised. Even… a bit apprehensive.

"But of course," The blonde man continues laughingly, which somehow makes her innards twist in dread, which wasn't supposed to happen. She did not fear anyone. She just wasn't programmed that way.

"What should I expect? I made you lot—although I don't distinctly recall making _you_ —as a pervasion of humanity. You're all worthless, idiotic, pieces of _filth_ which only serve me one purpose."

 _This isn't like anyone I've ever met. His eyes are…actually terrifying. Yet, his presence is so familiar, I don't understand-!_

"To serve me in whatever I desire, Your **Father** and **God**." A definite, final statement. No questions or rebuttals permitted.

She can actually hear the screams of hell in his voice, see the suffering souls in his eyes. She can taste the ancient hate in his essence, but the scent of deceptively smoky allure clings to his body.

"What **are** you?" She attempts to inject venom in her voice, but even to her ears, it sounds like a frightened snarl, one from a wounded animal cornered and with nowhere to hide.

"You really have the worst timing Maze, I was about be entertained thoroughly by sexy quadruplets, but it seems you had to ruin my fun now, didn't you-" A smooth baritone voice with a British accent resonated within the place.

The Winchesters and Lucifer look up from where the voice was coming. A very handsome dark-haired young man in an expensive charcoal grey suit was lithely taking his time in descending down the stairs, a small smile curling on his lips. The smile immediately disintegrated when he noticed the horrified expression in Maze's eyes.

That wasn't right.

Maze doesn't get afraid. It's not in her vocabulary, nor is it possible. She wasn't built to feel fear. His eyes darted from the four new men standing in his club, with shards of glass at their feet. Yet, only two of them were actually bleeding. Lucifer frowned. That meant that unconscious one and the blonde one with the frighteningly-intense eyes were not human.

"Maze, care to tell me who these gentleman are?"

"I don't know what the FUCK you are, but you will learn what happens when you take the Devil's name." She suddenly shouted right at the blonde man's face, ignoring her boss's question and taking frantic steps backward.

"Oh?" The blonde cocked an amused eyebrow, his lips rising in an arrogant smirk, arms crossed. "Is that so…Maze?" A graceful finger came up to caress his lips in a downwards motion until it nestled underneath his chin.

"Maze, who is this man?" Lucifer pressed a hand to the demon's lower back, hoping to calm her agitated state.

"He's another one." She said harshly. "Another one calling himself Lucifer." She shakes free from his grip and goes to the bar, immediately serving herself a full glass of malt whiskey.

Lucifer doesn't seem to catch her words right at that moment, but when he did, a large toothy smile takes over half of his face.

"He is?" He says in absolute delight. "Well, Maze dear. I suggest you let the bouncers know Lux has had an issue with _stealing_ and will need to deal with the perpetrator. We don't open the doors tonight. I will be having some fun."

Maze smirks through her now-empty glass, and goes to follow her boss's orders.

"Hee-llo, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Lucifer Morningstar." He extends out a hand to the blonde man with a pleasant smile on his face.

" _What_?"

The two bloodied humans both say incredulously at the same time, while the man in front of him looks like he wants to tear into his metaphorical heart and eat it.

"Also known as Satan, the Devil, Beelzebub, I could go on really…" He says with a slight casual shrug, his charm on overdrive. The blonde scrunches his face as if disgusted, and Lucifer can't help thinking this man is very, very rude. Not only is he giving him a few seconds of mercy before his inevitable demise (first time you get off with a warning, but another occasion? Oh no, he needed to discipline the perpetrator) but he is actually being cordial to him and he rebuffs him in such a disrespectful manner.

"You're kidding me, right?" He finally speaks in disdain, looking back at one of the bloodied humans in particular, a very tall lumberjack-styled man with a mop of flowing hair. He is merely frozen in terror, along with the pretty ken doll look-alike right beside him.

Lucifer is no longer amused. He doesn't believe he's the Devil, what a surprise! Maybe a demonstration will serve of use. In a split second, a hand grabs the blonde's face by his cheeks, and stares deep into the night-blue eyes. "Does this look like the face of someone who kids around, _Lucifer_?" He asks sweetly. The man's eyes narrow dangerously, and if he wasn't the Devil himself, he might have been frightened. In reality however, it just served to amuse him.

"Oh my _God_ , what are you **DOING**?!"

One of the humans was screaming bloody murder, and Lucifer fights the urge to cackle. Was he actually afraid _for_ him? Ridiculous! He'll show him his hell face so he'll shut up and finally begin to punish this imposter-!

Suddenly, Lucifer realizes his Prada dress shoes are not touching the ebony marble floor. In fact, he notices his entire body is levitating inches from it. His fingers are no longer grasping the blonde's stubbly cheeks, and for the grand total of 0.34 second, he sees RAGE envelop the man's eyes.

A whirlwind of motion, speeding sound like a whistle in his ear, and his back is slammed straight into his extensive liquor collection, shattering the glass shelves and bottles instantly. _Again?_ He groans miserably. This is the second time his liquor shelves have been destroyed. WHY DO THEY ALWAYS GO FOR THE ALCOHOL?

"LUCIFER!" Maze screams, who had ducked just in time.

"He. Is. NOT. Lucifer." The blonde man is walking towards him, hissing lowly. How in the-? Lucifer has absolutely no idea how to handle this situation, which is steadily spiraling out of control. The man actually _injured_ him. He made him bleed. And unless Chloe is currently hiding around, that shouldn't happen.

"Holy hell, how did you fling me like that? That is some great power you got there, chap but it brings up an interesting question. Only angels can injure me, and I would surely recognize my angelic brethren-" The injured devil nurses his bleeding elbow close to his body, looking upward.

"Be quiet." The dark voice booms like thunder. Oh wait, there actually _is_ thunder resonating. Lightning is building in the night sky. What an interesting coincidence. Supposedly, the night sky was supposed to be clear.

There he is. The blonde whose face is contorted in a grotesque expression of fury.

"I don't take kindly to those who imitate me."

Lucifer's jaw set in stone, no longer willing to play games. He stood up, shaking off the blood running from his fingers and stared at the other straight in the eyes.

"Funny you should phrase it like that, because _I_ don't take kindly to those who imitate _me_." He snarled.

The other man chuckles, which is irritating enough to make him actually feel anger. The blonde continues on. "What's your name? I would like to know before I skin you alive."

"Why I'd be glad to give you my name. Lucifer. How about yours?" His eyes shimmered as the hellfire red enveloped them, damnation visible in his pupils.

The blonde throws his head backs and laughs uproariously, taking a few steps back as he can't contain the hilarity of the situation. He even doubles, holding his stomach for a bit. "Cute parlor tricks."

" _Parlor tricks_?" Lucifer says incredulously, furiously.

"Well, since you've been so kind, I'll present myself as well."

He straightened up, and as if Father himself wanted it to happen, the night sky lit up with so much lightning it seemed like a blinding camera flash. And Lucifer finally felt it. He felt Maze's fear.

But that's impossible.

 _How could he have-?!_

The flash of lightning highlighted the blonde's shadow…

…along with the dark shadow of a pair of gigantic larger-than-life wings which spanned the entire wall of the club building.

"Hi. My name is Lucifer, the light-bearer. No 'Morningstar' in the end, I'm afraid."


	2. In which Lucifer curses out his daddy

A clusterfuck of "which Lucifer is she talking about". And some questions answered, somewhat.

* * *

.

"You're an angel." Lucifer Morningstar states angrily, his lips pursing in extreme displeasure. That much was for certain. No one can fake a pair of angel wing shadows, especially with the size of those two, not even the most clever of demons.

"Not just an angel, you filth. I'm an _archangel_." The blonde man hisses out. That SURELY is a lie. Michael's presence was commanding and pure, Raphael's was soothing and healing, and Gabriel's resonates with peace and harmony. He knows his brothers from the inside out, and this…disgrace of an angel proclaims to be one of them?

What the devil (no pun intended) is his Dad thinking?! This is most likely his doing, if anything else. "I feel nothing from you. No grace, no angelic properties. You're like a blank space. Worthless." He spits out with the intent to insult.

"Likewise." The other man growls. While the two continued to snap at each other, Mazikeen crouches from the bar counter and begins to approach the same man from behind, one of her infamous sharp hell-carved demon daggers at hand. Surely stabbing the asshole could get rid of the problem once and for all. Maybe not kill him, but hey, she'd feel better.

Sam Winchester notices her lithe feline-like form from afar, steadily crawling to Lucifer with that obsidian colored knife and his heart jumps to his throat. He doesn't know why, nor why the feeling is actually unpleasant, but he realizes his mouth is no longer in control.

"Lucifer." Only a mere whisper, but it is enough to be heard. Lucifer whirls around, a hand wrapping itself around Mazikeen's throat harshly and immediately suspending her in the air without a second thought. Sam flinches at the sudden movement, and guilt starts to eat up his mind. It was solely because of him that he noticed her sneak attack. Why was he concerned for the archangel? He can certainly take care of himself, and one simple dagger wouldn't cause him any harm. If anything, his fear should have been for the attractive woman who was clearly way over her head.

"RELEASE my caretaker this instant, you douche!" The dark-haired well-dressed man yells furiously in the distance. Her windpipe no longer functions, but she still manages to hang on to the demon dagger. With all of her dwindling strength, she ferociously drives down the blade into the blonde's neck.

"LUCIFER!"

…were those his lips making that exclamation of fear and worry?

Judging by the horrified and absolutely shocked expression Dean was currently giving him, Sam is going to say a definite yes. What the hell is wrong with me? It's like he couldn't control this innate dread whenever he witnessed something potentially threatening the Devil. But WHY? He doesn't know, and it scares him that he doesn't know. It's not like ANYTHING can threaten Lucifer to begin with, except maybe Amara. Dean's eyes also scream ' _if we get out of this alive and relatively unscathed, we are going to have a goddamn long chat about what the hell was **that** about_ ', and it doesn't make him feel any better.

"It's alright, Sammy." Lucifer says smoothly, eyes boring straight into the tan woman, only tilting his head slightly to the left to address the younger Winchester. The knife was still embedded until the hilt in his neck, but there was no blood, and he had Mazikeen suspended in the air by her throat. Now, he actually tightened his grip.

"I'm more than fine." He cooed to her gasping mouth, the silent question of 'how the fuck are you still alive?' clear in her wide filmy eyes. In response to her inquiry, he nonchalantly grasped the handle of the dagger with his free hand and pulled it out with no problem. The blade was charcoal-black and clean, no blood.

What in the- even a goddamn ANGEL is injured with this dagger, what the fuck **ARE** you?!

"You know who I am, demon." The blonde speaks to her as if her thoughts were transmitted to him directly. Son of a bitch, not even Lucifer reads her mind. This is so far from good, she is actually fearing for her life now. Fuck. His fingers lightly tap on the skin of her neck, as if waiting for her response.

"Say it. Say my name. C'mon Mazikeen, it's not that hard. Bow and pledge allegiance to me, your true Satanic Lord." His lips curl into a cruel grin.

"Alright, this is quite ENOUGH. The people of L.A may be complete bastards, but they are nothing in comparison to YOU, you jackass." For some reason, that phrase makes Sam pause for a second. They are in Los Angeles? A familiar voice sings out in the recess of his mind.

I move to LA, solve crimes!

His brows furrow in bewilderment. Lucifer had said that before, hadn't he?

 **Boom.**

Lucifer's outstretched clawed hand (not their Lucifer, the other one) is the only proof it was him who sent the blonde crashing twenty-five feet straight into the same destroyed liquor cabinet.

Meanwhile, the Winchesters are absolutely freaking the fuck out. They don't know whether to go after the guy who is calling himself Lucifer Morningstar, try to attack the real Lucifer now that he's down, or just fuck everything, pick up unconscious Cas and run like hell.

"Dude, what the hell is going on…?" Dean whispers to his brother in paralyzed terror. Sam finds himself unable to even get a word out, as he is watching the scene unfold in front of him with a icy chill in his spine.

"I was wondering when you'd start to get serious." Lucifer laughs slightly, shaking off the remnants of glass from his body. No blood on him. Damn.

"Oh darling, I'm just getting started." The well-suited man sneers.

"Bring it then, Morningstar."

Sam feels a ping of memory at the mention of Morningstar, and he doesn't know why that sounds so familiar. As a matter of fact, that woman's name, Mazikeen also sounded so familiar, like he has heard it before—

"Cas?" Dean suddenly says, crouching down, tone desperate with worry.

Sam looks down to the angel's crumpled form, seeing his eyes fluttering open and closing. Castiel is finally waking up. But he doesn't look very good. His face is pale and sickly, his squinty eyes having a hazy quality to them, and he seems to be exerting way too much energy just to keep himself awake. He looks around the unfamiliar place they are in, noticing how unusually quiet his internal mind is. Not to mention that he's in control instead of Lucifer.

"Dean?" He finally croaks out, having no idea what to think. A light sheen of sweat coats his forehead, and his breathing begins to turn labored.

"Hey, hey man. Take it easy, okay? I got you, Cas." He grabs him by the arm tightly, as if trying to convey he really did have him, literally. While his words and tone are reassuring, Dean's eyes are wide with fear and preoccupation for the seraph and Sam notices it immediately. He claps a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder, aiming to let him know that everything will turn out okay. He hopes.

"How am I-?" Castiel begins to ask, but he winces right in the middle of his question, apparently feeling some sort of pricking pain somewhere.

"You okay?" Dean immediately asks him, alarmed.

"I'm…I'm very confused." The angel finally groans out. "How am I in control? I can't hear Lucifer in my head, it's almost like he's—"

"Gone." Sam finishes.

"He is, man." Dean finally gives a small smile, crinkled eyes and all. They actually managed to do something right. Sure, they don't know where the fuck they are, nor do they know why all out of the sudden, TWO Lucifers are duking it out as they speak (one of them is fake sure, but yeah, that's still kind of worrisome), but Cas is finally back.

"We kicked him out of your head. Permanently." His smile grew wider, the relief settling into his mind.

He's back and to hell with everything else, that's what really matters.

Dean can't help it. One minute, he's just kneeling on one knee next to Cas, and the next one, he finds himself swinging an arm around his neck and crushing him with a unexpected harsh hug.

He knew from the way Castiel stiffened at his sudden hug attack, that he was very surprised. In fact, he could bet all of the pie in the world that Sam is also probably looking at him with those wide eyes and raised eyebrows as if trying to figure out what the heck happened. Yet, he doesn't find it in himself to care.

"It's good to have you back, Cas." Dean mutters into his shoulder, the embrace still going strong. It took a couple of minutes, but the angel finally rose his arm and wrapped it around the hunter. He smiles. This is…nice.

"Although, if you weren't hurt right now, I would be beating your ASS for being so goddamn stupid."

Aaaaand, moment broken.

"REALLY, CAS? You said yes to fucking LUCIFER?"

Even though Dean probably could have picked a better time to start chastising Castiel, Sam also wanted to know what in the world made him think being Lucifer's vessel was even a remotely good idea.

Cas withdrew his arm, his jaw tightening. "I needed to do what was necessary to defeat the Darkness." He growled, looking away from both the Winchesters.

Both Sam and Dean open their mouth, apparently about to vehemently protest that same point when they heard another earth-shattering crash about 15 feet away. Castiel whips his head to the noise, eyes wide in surprise.

The dark-haired suited man has smashed into the adjacent wall, his body leaving a painful-looking crater in the plaster. He fell to the floor in a heap, the white button-down underneath his grey blazer dark with blood. Castiel tilts his head just slightly, like he usually does when he finds something particularly vexing. Just who is this man, and why does his presence feel so familiar?

Right at the opposite corner of the club, Lucifer flexed his hands and tightened his fingers into dangerous fists. "You sure know how to pack a punch there, Lucifer." The injured man coughs the phrase out along with dark red blood.

Lucifer really, REALLY shouldn't have clipped his angel wings. Much of his strength and angelic grace came from them. But no, he had to play the part of the rebellious teenager to the T and burn them right up. Goddamn it. Who would have known there was someone else equal to him in power that wasn't his parents?

"I gotta say, I was expecting much more of a challenge. Especially coming from the person who is stealing my identity, Luci." The powerful blonde man smirks evilly. The nickname dripped with mocking cruelty and venom. Mazikeen had taken off running upstairs, attempting to find the cellphone which contained Amanadiel's number on it. He needed to make an appearance, NOW.

"Who…who the bloody hell are you?" Morningstar shakes his head in disbelief, still not willing to accept the fact he is getting pummeled to a pulp. Him, the Devil. With no Decker around in sight. Lucifer shakes his heads, sighing as he pitied the other party. "Okay, this is getting pretty old. And I don't know there's an alternative motive, or if you're just this STUPID, but there must be a reason why you are continuing with calling yourself by MY name."

Castiel's eyes were the widest Dean had ever seen them, and he looked absolutely petrified. Not good.

"Cas…you okay, there buddy?" He asked, voice wavering slightly.

"Not possible…" The seraph choked out.

"Yeah, I don't know how it happened, but Lucifer got his own vessel back. His old one, Nick." Sam begins to explain as much as he knows.

"NO, not that, well actually now that you mention it, that also particularly worries me but it's not what I meant-" Castiel says so hurriedly that it takes the two Winchesters a minute to process what he said.

"Those two…they are the same person." He whispers.

"WHAT?"

"Their auras are exactly alike. No one in the entire universe has identical auras, not even angels."

The two Lucifers turn around, as if hearing what Castiel just uttered. "Did you say something, little brother?" The face of Nick darkened imperceptively, apparently not liking where he was going with that phrase.

"You mean to tell me, that they BOTH are Lucifer? This Morningstar guy is another legit **Satan**?" Dean demands in a horrified voice.

"It means that we just fell into an alternate universe which holds its own Devil. But make no mistake, they are still essentially each other." Castiel says solemnly.

Silence. And finally Sam understands it all in one split second.

SHIT.

Satan working with cops. In L.A.

HOLY SHIT.

It's that goddamn show.

"Fuck." Sam shakes his heads, burying his face his head. "Just our fucking luck."

"What?" Dean asks.

"It's that stupid fucking TV show. _Lucifer_ is actually real."

Lucifer bites his lips slightly, remembering his old comment when he was still in the Cage.

"Pardon, did you say a TV show?" The bleeding man (or well, archangel) interjects, completely lost on what they were talking about.

Lucifer never actually saw the show, but he knew the humans had been working on a series that focused exclusively on him, only vastly out of character and not to mention a club owner who helped a detective from time to time to solve petty crimes. He found the plot summary disgusting, so he never actually got around to filer through the content of it like some other good series.

He was absolutely furious.

"Another alternative reality?" Dean groans out. "NO. NO, just no, this cannot be happening to us again. Why God does hates us? WHY DO YOU HATE US?!" He shouts directly to the ceiling.

"We had more than enough Lucifer to last us a couple of centuries, and now you send us to the dimension where there's fucking TWO OF THEM?! What is your frigging PROBLEM?!"

He knew God had always been interested in creating alternate dimensions, but he never knew He'd take it this far…to create a copy of not only humans but of his archangels?

Of… _him_?

He actually felt nauseated. He didn't think the level of betrayal he felt towards his Father could get any higher, but surprise! It just did. He felt like if he'd just gotten punched by God himself.

"Oh, you sick **fucker** …" He gritted between his teeth.

.

* * *

Some answers but a shit ton more questions. Sorry. I need to call each Lucifer something different because keeping track of which Lucifer I'm talking about is confusing.

I'm thinking:  
"Luci" - Lucifer Morningstar  
"Lucifer" - Lucifer (SPN)

I feel LM is a lot more... casual and chill than SPN's Lucifer. Which is why I thought calling him Luci might fit better. Or maybe the other way around works better? Let me know please.


End file.
